


Mhairie: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

by marysiak



Series: The Mhairie Stories [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:53:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6607999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marysiak/pseuds/marysiak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another Mhairie snippet, this one from 2000. Set during the season when Spike had the chip in his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mhairie: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

   
 **Mhairie: Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Marysia (Dec 2000)**   
   
She met him in a coffee shop. Not the sort of thing she normally did. I mean she didn't hang, she didn't chat with strangers, especially not strange men. She had her reasons to avoid people, the simplest being that she generally didn't like them much. Most of them anyway.   
   
But she had been walking back to her new apartment and it had been a  little further than it seemed on the way out and the weather was a little colder than she had thought it could be in California. So she had stopped for a little something to warm her up and ended up staying an hour. Listening to him sing.   
   
And of course he had noticed her. Like it always happened. Pay anyone more than a few moments of attention and it started. But we'll get back to that cause she didn't mind so much this time. Cause this time there was just something about him that made her want to know a little more. Hey, it did happen every now and then.   
   
"I saw you watching. You seemed very... well let's just say it's nice to get so much attention in a place like this. Sometimes I'm amazed I can be heard at all over people talking."   
   
She smiled, a little shyly. "I liked your choice in music. I've always loved acoustic guitar... I play a little myself."   
   
"Really? What sort of thing?"   
   
She blushed and looked away. "Oh, I shouldn't have brought that up. I'm really not very good... I never had the focus to learn, no good at practising. I can pick out a couple of tunes if I have the music is all."   
   
"You read music?"   
   
"Yeah, I used to take piano lessons. Same story, I never practised enough."   
   
"Well you're one up on me, I never learnt to read music. I just strum away."   
   
She became a little more focused. "See I never got the hang of that. I can pick in a classical style but my strumming sucks and chords... there's a whole world   
of music comprehension out there that my brain just never got round to. Maybe if I'd ever taken guitar lessons... or maybe I'm just not the musical type." She    
sighed. "I'd love to be able to do what you do, but I'll never be able to accompany myself well enough to sing in front of anyone."   
   
He smiled. "Everyone wants to be on the stage."   
   
She laughed a little self-consciously. "I guess so."   
   
"But maybe I could help. Perhaps we could practice together, do you still have a guitar?"   
   
"Oh! Yes, but... I really don't think... I'd just hold you back."   
   
"Not at all. There are a good few songs I like very much that I've never really learned because they don't suit my voice, it will give me an excuse to learn to play them. What range is your voice?"   
   
"I... soprano, I guess. At least when I sang opera I was a soprano, but it always seems harder to reach the high notes singing regular stuff."   
   
"Tell you what, why don't you come over to my house tomorrow afternoon and bring your guitar and we'll see if it works or not." He fished a piece of paper out of his pocket and wrote down his address.   
   
 And so that was how she had ended up here in the overly hot sun dragging her guitar case towards the house of a strange man she had met in a coffee house    
and whose name she had forgotten to ask. If it hadn't been for that warm sparkle in his eyes and the comfort of a mostly familiar English accent she would have stood him up.   
   
 And so that was how he had ended up here, nervously fidgeting in the overly dry air of his house awaiting the arrival of a strange girl he had met in a coffee house and whose name he had forgotten to ask. He wasn't quite sure what had incited him to ask her here, he must have sounded like a desperate old man, he had no idea why she had agreed. Perhaps to get him to go away. What had he been thinking? She couldn't be much older than Buffy, perhaps the same age, perhaps younger! Good God, what if she was younger? What if she turned up on his doorstep with two angry parents ready to beat up the Sassenach pervert chatting up their little girl. But he hadn't been chatting her up. Had he? He still wasn't entirely sure what he had been doing, it had felt something like autopilot.   
   
First she had been watching him, then he had been watching her and it had all just felt perfectly natural, everything he had said had, at the time, felt like the right thing to say. In fact he didn't think he'd spoken to a stranger so comfortably before in his life. And he hadn't had any ulterior motives in asking her over. It was just in hindsight, looking back over the scene, it sounded like a cheap pick up.   
   
He sighed and picked up his guitar. Perhaps a little music would make him feel more at ease.   
   
 As she approached the drive way she heard the guitar music drift through the air.  Nice, but her main thought was inside, cool, put down guitar, drink lot's of  water, die of heat exhaustion. She dumped her guitar on the step and rang the bell, her arms felt like dead things. And she was supposed to play the guitar with what?   
   
The door opened   
   
"Oh my!" His concern was startled out of him by more immediate concerns. "I had no idea you didn't drive. Please, come in. Let me take that. Can I get you anything?"   
   
She collapsed onto the sofa indecorously and gasped out. "Water... and possibly an ambulance."   
   
He brought her a glass of water. "Do you live far away? If I'd realised I could have given you a lift."   
   
"Far is relative," she answered after downing the water. "And largely predicated on how large the musical instrument you're carrying is. I'm very glad I gave up the cello."   
   
"You played cello?"   
   
"It was even less successful than the piano. Lovely instrument though. If I ever get rich I'll buy one and it can gather dust in the corner with my guitar and my   
flute."   
   
"You play flute too?" Giles was beginning to feel a little out of his depth musically.   
   
"No, I own a flute. I occasionally make strange and quavery noises come out of it. I mostly leave it alone. Big difference."   
   
.............   
   
Sometimes he was there and sometimes he was not. This mysterious man that Rupert called William, that he said was his cousin from back home. Sometimes when he was there he was upstairs, ignoring them at their music. Other times he was right there, silently watching, intense. She noticed that he was never there in the afternoons. She began to be too busy in the afternoon, could they not meet later more often. It was easier. She knew that if it hadn't been for William, somehow that name didn't fit, she would be spending her days with her mind full of Rupert as she was sure he thought of her. It wasn't that she didn't find him attractive, and when they sat close, his fingers over her own showing her the chords, his hand over hers controlling her stroke on the strings, his body warm and present against her side and back... but the moment William appeared her whole body seemed to focus on him and she could think of nothing else. Her playing would go all to hell and Rupert would try to send him away for putting her off. But she would ask for him to stay saying that she had to get used to an audience. But she felt she would never get used to such an audience.   
   
She wondered what he did during the day, certainly nothing that involved going outside much as his skin was paler than even hers. She wondered what he thought of her, surely not that much or he would be there more often. Although she felt like Rupert didn't want him there, an unwelcome guest. But Rupert didn't like to discuss him, he always changed the subject. Sometimes she caught them glaring at one another with such unadulterated violence in their eyes that it made her shiver. There was something slightly dangerous about William, about his eyes, about his movements. Something that Rupert mirrored whenever he was around. It wasn't just that she found William attractive but she found Rupert more attractive when William was there. They were like two male cats encroaching on each others territory. Polite, following the rules, holding back something powerful because if they let it out it would destroy them both.    
   
Okay, now she was letting her mind running away with itself. But it was so delicious, they were so delicious. She fantasized about them fighting over her. Or of them both taking her. She had to stop thinking like that or she'd never be able to get her fingers to play the right notes. She liked it best when Rupert played for her and let her sing with no distractions. She'd been nervous about even that at first. But now she could look William square in the eyes and sing without a note wrong or her breath running out on her at an inopportune moment.   
   
There were other people too that she saw every now and then. Willow and Tara the most often, though still rarely, then Xander and Anya and a couple of times a blonde with the ludicrous name of Buffy. She still hadn't got over that one. Buffy? She couldn't really remember much about her as she'd spent the whole time trying not to laugh. Xander had seemed nice if easily distracted, Anya was decidedly strange, Willow and Tara were sweet. But she'd only met them in passing. William was the only one who actually stayed in the house while they played...   
   
And he was here today, she noted as she entered, her heart leaping into her throat momentarily. Sat in an armchair with a book he looked up briefly with a nod of recognition then proceeded to ignore her. She allowed herself a barely noticeable sigh and began to unpack her guitar as Rupert closed the door behind them.   
   
She started tuning her guitar, still using the help of the digital tuner unlike Rupert who tuned unaided. She sighed again, more noticeably, she would never be half the guitarist he was. That was when she twisted the top string a little tighter than she meant to and it snapped with a loud twang followed by a louder cry.    
   
"Aah! Fuck!!" She held her bleeding hand to her, "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."   
   
Rupert was on his feet immediately, he looked at it briefly then headed for the bathroom upstairs. "Hold on. I'll get you something for that."   
   
He was half way up the stairs, out of sight, when she felt Williams' hands on her own. "Let me see." His voice was an odd strained purr.    
   
As she reluctantly lifted her undamaged hand from the cut he let out a strangled moan and then suddenly his lips were on her hand. She gasped in surprise as his tongue ran over the wound and then his mouth closed over it. "William?" One hand held the cut against his mouth, the other snaked around her waist. He felt like steel, cool and unmoveable. Her free hand fluttered over his head coming to rest in his hair as his touch became less restraining and more sensual. She heard him moan in pleasure as he lapped at the blood. "William?" her tone was less questioning this time, more curious than afraid. His hand around her waist massaged her back, pulling her closer to him.   
   
"Spike!" Rupert came racing back down the stairs dropping whatever he had been carrying. His face was livid with anger. "Get the hell away from her!" He grabbed the back of William's, Spike's?, shirt and pulled him back but with his grip on her waist and arm all that succeeded in doing was spilling both of them onto the floor. The kick to the side of his head, however, did dislodge him, and it wasn't till then that she screamed. Not in terror, just in shock, at the sight of his face,  changed. But she only had a moment to take it in before Rupert's kick to his stomach doubled him over. He rolled to escape and as Rupert moved to continue the attack she threw herself in the way.   
   
"Stop it!"   
   
Startled, he paused long enough for William to get some distance, his face normal again. Had she really seen it as something else?   
   
"Bloody hell, Giles, I wasn't hurting her! I can't bloody hurt her, can I!"   
   
Rupert just glared at him then turned to her, "Mhairie, are you all right?"   
   
"I... yes. I..." she looked back down at her hand in confusion. It was still bleeding a little, it hurt. She shook her head, "I don't understand what's going on, Rupert. William?" She turned back to the confusing blond who had his eyes fixed on her hand again.   
   
He looked up. "I think we can at least dispense with that one, it's doing my head in. My name is Spike." He glared at Rupert, "And I'm not his bloody cousin. Thank God. Though maybe if I was he might consider talking first and hitting later."   
   
"You got what you asked for, what did you think you were doing?"   
   
"Bloody hell, I was hungry! Do you have any idea what it feels like!  Have you ever gone for three fucking months without water and then had a bottle of Evian dangled in front of your face?"   
   
"Spike, be realistic. You feed every day, you are hardly starving."   
   
"Dead fucking pigs blood, not even human, it's all I can do to keep the damn stuff down. It's not the same!"   
   
"Well, beggars can't be choosers now can they."   
   
Spike's face rippled and suddenly she had seen right before, she stifled a gasp. "I would give anything to be able to rip your smug head off of your shoulders and ..." he suddenly grabbed his own head and cried out in pain. "Ow! Bloody fucking hellfire, can't I even think about it!" He stamped his foot on the floor and after a moment  straightened up again, his face back to normal.   
   
She glanced over at Rupert, he did look pretty smug. "Um... so is anyone going to tell me what's going on?"   
   
Rupert looked back at her and sighed. "I suppose I better now." He glared over his shoulder at Spike, "I don't suppose you feel like going away and preferably never coming back?"   
   
"Nah," he answered. "I'm feeling very traumatized by your unnecessary and cruel attack, I think I'll have to have a bit of a sit down." With that he tossed himself into a nearby armchair.   
   
Rupert sighed in exasperation. "Why don't you sit down too, this may take a while."   
   
She did so, but before he could start she waved her hand at him with a childish pout. "My hand still hurts."   
   
"Oh, right. I have a band-aid over here." He stood to fetch it but paused again to address Spike. "You just stay right there."   
   
"Spoilsport."   
   
"Be quiet!"    
   
Spike subsided and Rupert fetched the band-aid and cloth he'd dropped on the stairs. He passed them to Mhairie and she smiled. "I know it's silly, but I never really got over the whole plasters make it stop hurting thing you have when you're a kid. Probably cause I don't hurt myself very often." She wiped away the excess blood and stuck on the band aid. "See, doesn't hurt any more." She sat back, depositing the cloth on the table, and waited.   
   
"Well," began Rupert. "I suppose it's best you know this stuff anyway, being as you live in Sunnydale now. But this may not be easy to accept."   
   
"Oh, spit it out, Giles," Spike interupted.   
   
"Spike, will you please shut up!" Giles said through gritted teeth.   
   
Spike ignored him. "I'm a vampire," he pronounced. He stood up and stalked towards them. "I've spent the last 200 years of my undead life hunting, torturing and killing your kind and I'm very, very good at it."   
   
He ended his statement in a low purr only to have his dramatics cut off by Rupert. "Oh for God's sake, Spike, stop showing off." Spike looked hurt. "What he fails to mention is that he has a chip in his head which means he can't so much as slap someone around a bit without keeling over in agony. Never mind actually hurt anyone. He is, to all intents and purposes, neutered."   
   
"I told you before to stop bloody using that word!"   
   
Rupert smothered a grin.   
   
"It's not bloody funny!"   
   
Rupert failed to stop smirking.   
   
Spike rolled his eyes and spoke to Mhairie. "You see what I have to put up with? And these are supposed to be the good guys! Just cause I spent the last two years trying to kill them they get all smug, whatever happened to forgive and forget?"   
   
"The forgive and forget side is quite amply covered by the fact that we haven't staked you, Spike."   
   
"Yeah right, you haven't staked me cause it goes against the unwritten good guy rules. Thou shalt not kill the bad guy if he can't kill you back."   
   
"Yes, well, forgiveness might be more forthcoming if you were actually sorry for any of the things you ever did."   
   
"Hey, I'm sorry I failed," Spike threw back flippantly.   
   
"Not exactly what I meant."   
   
"I'm a bloody demon, what more do you want? You can't blame the lion for eating the deer. It's not like there aren't enough of you lot to go around, you're hardly an endangered species!"   
   
As Rupert opened his mouth to reply Mhairie covered it with her hand. "Okay, that's enough." Spike opened his mouth to continue and she pointed her finger at him. "I said, enough. Quiet. Argument over." He sat back and she removed her hand from Rupert's mouth. "So let me get this straight. He," she pointed at Spike. "Is a    
vampire and his name isn't William, it's Spike."   
   
Giles answered concisely, "Yes."   
   
"And you are not a vampire, right?"   
   
"No."   
   
"You are human. Yes?"   
   
"Yes."   
   
"And the other people I met, they're human too?"   
   
"Well..."   
   
"Yes or no."   
   
"Yes and no... sorry."   
   
"Okay, more information, less arguing this time. Okay?"   
   
"Okay."    
   
She sat back again, casting a curious look at Spike.   
   
Giles began to summarise. "The other people you have met are mostly human. Buffy is what is known as the Slayer, she is the Chosen One to slay the vampires. I am, or was, her Watcher..."   
   
"Hold on, hold on a minute. This all sounds very... weird.  Chosen One? Watcher?"   
   
"It is kind of complicated. But for now all you really know is that she kills vampires and I help her by training her and researching the vampires and demons she faces."   
   
"Demons?"   
   
"Vampires are not the only evil in this world."   
   
"Great. Did I mention that this is really not what I needed to find out. I can't even watch scary monster movies without losing sleep."   
   
"I'm sorry, you don't need to know about this... really I..."   
   
She held up her hand. "Uh uh, too late. I already know about this. It doesn't matter now, the reality won't be any worse than what my mind can now convince me might be real." She shook her head suddenly looking tired and a lot older than usual. "Who are the other people, just friends or are they in on this stuff too?"   
   
"Willow and Xander have been part of our group since Buffy and I started working together. They went to school with Buffy, they're both human although Willow does practice witchcraft."   
   
"You mean as a religion or as in doing magick?"   
   
"Both I guess, but mostly in the magick sense."   
   
"You mean that's real too? She can really do magick?" The age dropped away again and left him wondering about how old she really was. He never had found a good moment to ask and his guesses swung wildly from as young as 18 (and surely no younger?) to as old as 30.   
   
"Yes, really." He smiled, suddenly feeling his own urge to show off.  "I've dabbled in the arts myself from time to time."   
   
It seemed to work as her eyes grew larger before Spike, annoyed at losing the attention, broke in. "Anyone can do magick if they read the right books. It's nothing special."   
   
Rupert glared at Spike. "If that's the case why didn't you do your own love spell instead of kidnapping Willow?"   
   
Before Spike could answer Mhairie was on her feet and stalking towards him. "Don't answer that."    
   
"Who me? Just adding a little information. Being helpful."   
   
She smiled at his innocent look, he was still cute, vampire or not. Besides she still couldn't get the whole bloodthirsty dangerous monster thing to fit over her previous image of him. "Very helpful, I'm sure. Now, be quiet."   
   
"Well, haven't we come over all dominant today."   
   
Her attitude seemed to falter away at that. As if she had suddenly noticed her own behaviour. So intent in finding out more she had strayed beyond the boundaries of her own personality.   
   
Spike grinned at her sudden loss of direction and grabbed her hand, pulling her against the chair. "Oh, don't take to heart, I'll behave. Not a word, I promise."   
   
"Um, thanks." She sat down in a more subdued mood on the arm of his chair. "I guess I don't really need to know anything else right now anyway. I mean, no need to rush it all." She had kept a hold of his hand and suddenly she looked down at it, then brought it up to clasp it with her free hand as well. "Your hand is so cold," she noted,   
running her fingers over it.   
   
"Yeah, well," Spike shrugged. "I am dead after all."   
   
She looked at him again with a look he was unused to after revealing his true nature to people. Wonder, fascination... not fear, not terror, not hatred or disgust. It was nice to know that even after two hundred years there were new things to experience. But then the last three months had held lot's of new things, few of them very pleasant. He   
shook that thought, he was getting better at trying to ignore that side of things. First order of life, survive, not brood. Brooding was what Angel did and he had no intention of growing up to be just like his 'Dad'.    
   
Giles broke the moment. "Why don't I take you back home now. I'm sure you could do with some time alone to think about things."   
   
She turned to him, slightly startled. "What? Oh. Time alone to think?  God no. That's a terrible idea."   
   
Rupert looked slightly hurt.   
   
"Sorry," she stood up and went back over to him. Her hand lingering a little behind her as she slowly released Spike's. "I just meant that if I go home then I'll just be lying in my bed freaking myself out. It's the whole spooky movie thing, you can't just watch one on your own in the middle of the night. You watch it in the afternoon, or at the very least when there's someone else in the house." She sat back down on the couch and fidgeted. "Could I... I mean would it be okay if I stayed here tonight? I don't mean to impose but I really would feel better if I knew there was someone else there. You know, to come save me when the monster under the bed grabs my ankle."   
   
Giles smiled at the childish analogy then frowned internally at it as his libido caught up. He'd give anything to see her birth certificate, or maybe if she carried her passport in her bag... this was starting to drive him slightly nuts.   
   
Before he could answer her Spike cut in again. "Hey, I could walk you home and stay over with you. On the sofa of course. I might not be able to hurt people but I can still kick demon ass with the best of them."   
   
Before she could answer Giles did, "No you most certainly will not!" He turned to Mhairie. "Don't ever trust him or give him an inch, I tell you this from long experience."   
   
"Hey!"   
   
"Of course you can stay here tonight. You can use my bed and I'll sleep on the couch."   
   
"Yeah right," Spike sneered. "Your intentions are just pure as the driven snow. Any bugger can see you're dyin' to..."   
   
Giles rounded on him and grabbed him by his collar. "Will you shut up and get out before I forget that I am one of the good guys!" He tossed Spike bodily out the door.   
   
Mhairie came over and peered past him to where Spike was getting up. He saw her and shrugged. "He loves me really." Then he strolled off whistling.   
   
Giles shut the door muttering, "Insolent, aggravating, smug bastard."   
   
"He doesn't seem that bad."   
   
"Don't let a pretty face distract you. He's killed more people than you can name and he'd still be doing it if he could. Let me explain," he guided her back to the sofa and they sat down. "He has no soul, he is not human. He has no conscience and no morals, in essence a psychopath."   
   
"There are psychopaths who don't kill."   
   
"Yes, but they still destroy everything around them. They don't care about  anyone. And Spike, all vampires in fact, are not just a psychopaths. They are demons, all their pleasure comes from destruction. From causing pain in any way possible. Spike can't hurt you physically any more but he still has carte blanche to cause emotional pain and to do his best to lead you astray."   
   
She tried to file that into the William section of her brain, she really would have to work on getting that correctly renamed to Spike, but it just wouldn't  fit right. It wasn't that she didn't believe Rupert, it was just that... well she'd never seen him hurt anyone. Tease, yes. But that was hardly a hanging  offence. And her common sense had never had much pull over her baser instincts.   
   
\---------------   
   
She lay in Rupert's large bed, very still. Very, very still. In fact she could barely bring herself to breathe. Funny how far away everyone else seemed when you'd just woken up in the middle of the night and you could have sworn you'd heard a noise coming from the general direction of the cupboard. Which was behind you, and you couldn't turn over to look cause then it might see you, and it was dark and she really couldn't breathe. She had to move. She had to do something before she died of fright. She had to remember what way the stairs were out of the door cause if she went the wrong way or paused too long it might get her. There is no it she told herself. She didn't believe her. Cause there were it's. She had seen one. All pointy teeth and yellow eyes and really cute butt. Yes, that was a good idea. Ignore the scary possible it in the closet and concentrate on the really cute it that she wasn't scared of. Distraction. But what if there really was an it in the closet and she got distracted and relaxed and then it ate her! That was when the closet made another noise. For an instant she froze then in a split second decision she was up and out of the bed and through the door and down the stairs.   
   
Spike opened the closet door and stared and the empty room. She could move really fast when she wanted to. He had meant to jump out but she had decided and moved so fast he had missed her. Damn! Oh well, that had been fun anyway. His intentions, when he had jimmied Giles window open and hidden in the closet, had been quite different but then the idea had come upon her to find out how easily scared she really was. He had creaked the closet loud enough to wake her and she had woken    
easily with a start and then frozen, the scent of fear filling the room in moments. It had been brilliant. But he hadn't expected her to move so fast when she finally broke and now he was going to have to wait for her to come back upstairs before he could get back to his original plan. He really hoped she wouldn't have Giles check  the cupboard... maybe he should hide under the bed for a bit.   
   
\--------------   
   
"Rupert!"   
   
He awoke with a start, trying to focus his eyes. Mhairie was kneeling by the sofa.

"What? What's wrong?"   
   
"There's... ah... um..." she trailed off looking a little embarrassed.   
   
He half sat up. "There's a what?"   
   
She looked down and mumbled. "The cupboard was making noises."   
   
He looked at her for a moment then decided he simply had to know. "I see. Um... I'm afraid I really must ask, how old are you?"   
   
She sighed. "I know, I know. Old enough that I shouldn't be running down the stairs cause the cupboard's making noises."   
   
"No really, I have no idea. How old are you?"   
   
She looked up, startled. "Oh. Twenty-five."   
   
"Thank God," he said cryptically. Then he kissed her.    
 


End file.
